


I Think We're Alone Now

by guti



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: They’d been through a lot together, there was absolutely no denying that.  Still, even the firmest of friendships would be tested given their present predicament.  They were, thanks to combined acts of sheer stupidity too embarrassing to fully explain, trapped in a storage closet at Sky Studios.  Neither of them had their cell phones.  The floor they were on was completely abandoned, not so much as a janitor to be found, and they were quickly losing their patience with each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neyvenger (jjjat3am)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/gifts).



They’d been through a lot together, there was absolutely no denying that. Between countless matches for clubs and country and now half a season spent side by side as colleagues at Sky, it was absolutely safe to say that Jamie Carragher and Gary Neville had plenty of shared memories between them. There was enough history that a rapport was easily found, and enough give that their dynamic could easily evolve from something awkward to an actual and genuine friendship. Jamie liked to think so, at least, even as he gave out soundbites that played up their rivalry and skirted around the subject. It was better for ratings if they kept each other at arm’s length, though that seemed to get a little bit harder as time wore on and they fell into a sort of routine. They were mates, it was fair enough to say, even if they bit back their smiles for the sake of the cameras.

On occasion, there may have been hints that there was something more lurking beneath the surface. Once or twice they’d stared a little too long at each other. Sometimes they’d laugh a bit too loudly at the other’s jokes. One time Ed mentioned that they were standing awfully close to one another. But these were all simply hazards of a friendship in the earliest stages of bloom and absolutely not evidence of anything more substantive than that.

Still, even the firmest of friendships would be tested given their present predicament. They were, thanks to combined acts of sheer stupidity too embarrassing to fully explain, trapped in a storage closet at Sky Studios. Neither of them had their cell phones. The floor they were on was completely abandoned, not so much as a janitor to be found, and they were quickly losing their patience with each other.

“I can’t believe you got us into this mess,” Jamie hissed, trying the door for the twenty-third time. They’d been trapped for what seemed like an eternity already, and there was no end to their suffering in sight.

“Me?” Gary squawked, properly ruffled. “This is _hardly_ my fault! I’m not the one who thought to wander in here in the first place!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to follow me in here, you know.” Jamie crossed his arms and glared at him, though it was tough to make out his expression with the only light in the closet being the light from beneath the door. “If you’d just waited out there like a normal person, none of this would've happened.”

Gary threw his hands up in the air. “None of this would've happened? You’d still be locked in the closet like a complete idiot, except you’d be locked in here by yourself.”

“And you could’ve easily let me out in that case.” Jamie wasn't backing down. He was too prideful for any of that.

Gary frowned, reaching out to test the door himself, pouting slightly when it wouldn't give for him either. “Why’d you even come in here in the first place?”

Jamie said nothing at first, his back pressed flat against the wall, bumping up against the mops and brooms hanging on the rack high above them. “That hardly matters now.”

Gary shot him a look, the effectiveness of which was hindered by the relative darkness. “Right. So we’re stuck in here for who even knows how long for no discernible reason. This is truly terrific.”

“Listen, this isn’t my ideal way to spend a Sunday night either.” 

“That’s a very mild way of putting it.”

“But it’s not me fault you followed me in here.”

Gary rolled his eyes and slowly sank to the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. It was rather an uncomfortable way to be seated, partly because he was still wearing his suit trousers and partly because despite years of training and playing, he was getting old and he wasn't in the best shape anymore. But he wasn't about to admit any of that aloud, least of all not to Jamie Carragher. “What time do you reckon they’ll be in in the morning?”

Jamie shrugged into the dark, following suit with Gary and joining him on the floor. His back was against the opposite wall. There wasn't enough room for them to be exactly across from one another, but they were side by side, facing off, as per usual. “I dunno. Five maybe? Six at the latest, I should think.”

“Christ,” Gary muttered, loosening his tie. They were going to be in for one awkward night. It’d probably be worse once the staff were back in the studio and happened upon them in this failed state. Gary preferred not to think about explaining it until the moment came.

In the darkness, Jamie shifted, shrugging off his coat and folding it up carefully, to make himself a little pillow. “May as well get cozy.” He explained, feeling the weight of Gary’s eyes on him. “We’re gonna be here awhile.”

Neither of them said anything for a little while. They seemed to take turns, alternating between repositioning themselves and accidentally kicking the other in a bid to achieve more legroom. Eventually though, they were both more or less settled, jackets off, sleeves rolled up, belts loosened, shoes kicked aside. It wasn’t comfortable per se, but it was doable, and Gary was close to dozing off when Jamie nudged him in the gut with his foot.

“Gaz.”

“Hnn?” Gary purposely tried to sound as drowsy as possible, just to emphasize how very much he would like to rest, given the hour and their predicament.

“Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.” He could practically _hear_ Jamie rolling his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Jamie said. “Can’t sleep, ‘sall.”

“Have you tried shutting your eyes?”

Jamie snorted, the said softly, “Try that every night. Still can’t sleep.”

Gary raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to listen. “Insomnia?”

“Just a hair.”

“How do you usually fall asleep then?” Gary asked, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t,” Jamie said quietly. “Or maybe I’ll pour me something and listen to the telly ’til I can nod off.”

Gary’d come to know Carra fairly well over their time working together, but this tidbit was new. It made sense though. Jamie always liked to be busy, always seemed like he might have a hard time shutting down. It was just another way they were opposites of each other. Gary was the early to bed, early to rise, eat a good, hearty breakfast and attack the day sort. In a twisted kind of way, it made sense that Jamie would be a night owl insomniac with an inability to sleep at any reasonable hour. He didn’t feel sorry for the man, not in so many words, but he could empathize with the situation. 

“What do you watch to help you sleep?” 

“Match of the Day,” Jamie snickered. 

Gary snickered, too. “Have you tried just shutting your eyes?”

“Neville, please.”

Gary just kept on chuckling, pulling his jacket over himself like a blanket. Beside him, he could feel Jamie’s foot press gently against his side. He almost minded, but not quite enough to speak up or move or push him away. Instead, Gary felt his eyes start to droop and soon he was drifting off to sleep.

“Eh Gary?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he gasped a little, suddenly awakened from a half-decent dream. It took him a moment to reorient himself and remember that he and Carragher were still trapped in a closet. He looked around, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dark. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jamie said, his voice slurry softly. “Just you was snoring so loud it sounded like some sort of engine going. I was concerned you were gonna stop breathing on me.”

Gary flushed a little, rightfully indignant. “I do not snore.”

“I’m telling you, the whole room was rattling from it.”

“Sod off, you. Close your eyes and go to sleep, Carra. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner this madness will be over.”

“I can’t.” 

Gary sighed, cuddling up beneath his jacket. “Just shut your eyes and you’ll doze off. It’s a surefire method of falling asleep.”

Jamie made a sort of dismissive sound, which Gary took to mean he’d won their little quarrel, and once again, he closed his eyes and soon fell back asleep.

There was no real telling how long he’d been sleeping, maybe an hour, maybe two, but it wasn’t voices outside the closet in the studio that woke him up. It wasn’t even the pain in his lower back and neck from sleeping in such an awkward position on the floor of the closet that woke him. It was instead the weight of something or _someone_ leaning against him, resting on his shoulder that woke Gary from his sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, craning carefully to look out of the corner of his eye and get glimpse of Jamie’s head on his shoulder, eyes shut, lips parted in sleep.

Gary tensed up, eyes comically huge as he stared in disbelief at the sleeping scouser beside him. Their friendship had developed in recent times, to be sure, but surely there was a difference between the sort of friends who bantered constantly and maybe occasionally grabbed a drink together and the type of friends who fell asleep with their heads on each other’s shoulders. Gary just wasn't sure if or when they’d crossed that barrier, and truthfully he wasn't sure that was what he wanted.

Beside him, Jamie dreamt on, and in the darkness, Gary could make out his features and allowed himself the opportunity to admire him. Jamie was rather easy on the eyes, he had to admit it. He had those cheekbones that seemed so impossible, a strong jawline, those green eyes that always seemed so bright and mischievous, his smile could be outright rakish when he wanted it to. Even in the dark, even sound asleep, Jamie somehow maintained that sort of charm. How strange…

Carra moved then, nuzzling closer to Gary, twisting so that his arm was draped across Gary’d middle in a sort of possessive way that had Gary’s heart skip a beat. Gary froze, unsure what to do. 

“Are you asleep?” He finally whispered, Jamie’s head falling off his shoulder and resting against his chest, just above his heart. “Carra?”

“Mm?” Jamie breathed, soft, not yet awake.

Gary wondered if he should wake him, wondered if Jamie would be embarrassed by the whole thing, wondered if it would make things uncomfortable between them again. He’d hate for that to happen, hate to lose this newfound friendship that had finally blossomed after years and years of exposure to the extremes. Finally, they’d found an accord. Finally, there was peace, even camaraderie between them. And it could all be lost, if Gary didn’t play his cards right. The very idea pained him.

“Neville?”

Gary inhaled sharply just as Jamie sat up beside him and pulled away. Suddenly the closet felt very cold again, and Gary felt all alone. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.

“Carragher,” he said, shifting forward toward Jamie, who in all actuality hadn't moved very far away from him at all.

Jamie opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but no words came out. Instead he reached out, his fingers touching Gary’s cheek, and without a second thought, Gary pressed his lip’s to Jamie’s, and for an instant the whole world seemed to illuminate.

Jamie surged toward him, both hands on either side of Gary’s face, with a sort of desperation that betrayed his need to hold him there and just kiss him. Gary meanwhile was short of breath, clinging to Jamie too, so lost in the moment he wasn’t sure which was up and which was down. Nothing made sense and for once in his life that was perfectly fine. He didn’t care about anything except forgetting the world outside the broom closet. All he needed was Jamie Carragher’s mouth, and his friendship too. Screw the rest of humanity.

“Jamie…” Gary nearly shivered, overcome by sensation and want.

“Shh,” Jamie answered, biting at Gary’s lip. 

Gary moaned again, softer this time, as Jamie kissed past his mouth, down his jaw to his throat, and he raked his fingers through Jamie’s hair, praying to any listening deities that they not be interrupted, that they stay like this for awhile more, that it could be just him and Carra. Just them. Just the two of them. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? 

But the rest of humanity just _had_ to intrude. Outside, beyond the closet door, there came footsteps and approaching voices, and just as suddenly as Jamie and Gary found themselves entangled with each other, there came the very real need to extract themselves and pounce on their chance for escape.

Still, Gary could help but feel regretful. He wasn’t sure how long he’d really wanted to kiss Carra, but now that he had, and now that he couldn’t anymore, he felt pretty awful about the whole thing. Jamie seemed to sense this, and he reached for Gary’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze before bringing it to his lips for the lightest of kisses. Gary closed his eyes and put out his other hand to stroke Jamie’s cheek, letting his arms drop before calling out for help to the early-arriving crew members.

Later that morning, Ed sat them both down for a cup of tea, to laugh over the ridiculous predicament they’d been in the night before.

“Honestly, I didn’t actually believe what the crew were telling me until I saw you both,” he chuckled mirthfully. “How on earth did you manage to get locked in a closet all night? And what drove you in there in the first place?”

Gary looked across the table at Jamie and gave him a sideways glance, letting him field this one. He still wasn’t sure why Jamie’d gone in there to begin with, not that he especially cared anymore. Aside from the crick in his neck and the bags under his eyes from the poor night’s sleep, the only other souvenir he had from the evening was the hickey Jamie’d left on his neck. But he wasn't really complaining. He wasn’t complaining even a little bit. He wasn’t complaining at all.

Jamie just shrugged and said he couldn’t remember. And beneath the table, away from Ed’s prying eyes, he gave Gary’s ankle a little kick. And Gary raised his eyebrows at him and gave him a kick in return, as Ed carried on about Chelsea or something, totally oblivious to it all.


End file.
